


Stars and Shadow

by conceptofzero



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-11
Updated: 2014-01-11
Packaged: 2018-01-08 08:22:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1130424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/conceptofzero/pseuds/conceptofzero
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The celebrations rage late into the night, the sky lit with fireworks and cheering that rises and falls and rises once again. Prospit burns and Skaia burns and the Black Queen is filled with an unfathomable delight each time she looks in the sky and sees that too-bright glow coming from the corpses of her people’s enemies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stars and Shadow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Farla](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Farla/gifts).



The celebrations rage late into the night, the sky lit with fireworks and cheering that rises and falls and rises once again. Prospit burns and Skaia burns and the Black Queen is filled with an unfathomable delight each time she looks in the sky and sees that too-bright glow coming from the corpses of her people’s enemies. 

She finds Jack in the throne room, drunk and perched on her seat. In any other circumstance, she would be furious, but they’ve won the War and it just amuses to see him so openly coveting her position. The Black Queen moves as silently as she can, stumbling now and then as her body reminds her that she’s drank enough to intoxicate three regular-sized pawns. Jack notices her coming and falls out of the throne as he tries to get out, knocking over his drink on the floor. “Fuck, fuck! Shit, fuck, damn, fucking-” 

“Jack, you idiot.” Her tone is fond as she reaches Jack and gently steps on his chest, grinning as he squirms and swears under her foot. “Jack, you missed the speeches.” 

“So? Who fucking cares about. Speeches.” He pauses to burp, scrabbling at her leg. Snowman takes it off of him and sits down heavily on her throne, lounging on the purple marble. “I fucking. Saw them before anyway, when whatsherface wrote ‘em.” 

“Inspiring Speechwriter.” The Queen prompts him. Her crown slips on her head and she manages to right it, even as she leans a little too heavily to the right. “You could be charged with treason, you know. I could do that.” 

“You won’t.” Jack’s voice may have an uncertain waiver to it, but he’s clearly convinced that saying that much won’t piss her off enough to do it. He sits up and she watches as he slowly gets to his feet and manages to walk towards her, grabbing onto the arms of her throne. “You uh. You’d have to replace me, ‘nd I’m. Unreplaceable? Irreplaceable? You can’t. You need me.” 

He bravado always delights her. Jack’s the only one who isn’t afraid of her, and she’s not sure if that’s because he’s too stupid to be afraid or if he just doesn’t know any other way to be. “I could have another you in a minute. I just need to snap my fingers and they’ll cart out another.” 

“That’s a fucking lie.” He leans in close. His breath smells like spiced rum. It’s nice. She leans in and licks his lips to taste it. Jack blinks, and blinks again, and blinks a third time as his mind tries to process what she’s done. “Hey. No. That’s. Where’s your husband?” 

“Celebrating.” Last she saw, he had still been in the midst of the orgy. She was sure that if she listened hard enough, she could maybe still hear the sounds of everyone. The Black Queen had enjoyed watching but had not felt like participating and when the room had emptied of all except the participants, she had left as well, seeking out some more drinks and perhaps a little peace and quiet. Jack was none of those, but she supposed she didn’t mind his presence. She leans in again and this time his mouth opens for her and they kiss. It’s not so bad considering how drunk they both are. 

They shed their uniforms and attempt to fuck on the throne, which proves to be rather more difficult and uncomfortable than imagined. It’s not much fun when the arms of her chair dig into her back and she refuses to bend over the armrests for him. They finally manage to find a position that works for them when he sits on the throne and she straddles him, and it’s enjoyable right until the moment he opens his mouth and tries to order her around, at which point he loses his throne privileges entirely. 

Instead, they throw down their uniforms on a dry patch of floor and fuck there instead, panting and cursing at each other as Jack buries himself deep inside the Black Queen and fucks her the way she wants. Bursts of light wash over them with each explosion in the night sky, painting their shell purple and green and all sorts of colours. Her fingers dig into his shell and leave marks that she knows will be there for weeks, even as her thighs clench tight around him and she comes. Jack’s close behind, his teeth on her breast and his cock twitching inside of her as all the fight goes out of him. 

Naked, they go to his office and find a bottle of scotch stashed in the lowest drawer and drink it as they stare out the window at the revelers below. He is nothing like her husband and she enjoys the differences. Jack enjoys her as well, judging by the hands he can’t manage to keep off of her. They watch Prospit burn in the night sky like a new star and fall asleep huddled against each other, sleeping off an ungodly amount of booze. 

When day comes, the throne room is still empty. They dress in silence, heads pounding from their mutual hangovers. Her tolerance for Jack is at an all time low and the only reason he isn’t banished is because he’s in too much pain to say anything offensive. They go their separate ways without so much as a ‘get back to work’. After all, the War’s been won - there’s no work left to be done, at least not any that can’t wait another day. 

In her chambers, she finds her husband sleeping in the midst of a dozen other slumbering revelers. She wakes those closest to him and sends them on their way to their own beds, carving out a spot big enough for her. When the Black Queen crawls in beside him, he sets one heavy arm around her waist and tugs her against his chest, rumbling out an “morning” before he falls back asleep. 

The Black Queen just lies her head against his chest and looks out the window facing Prospit. She smiles to herself as she sees the light still blazing in the light of day, feeling a triumph that she can’t put words to. Then she closes her eyes and falls into a peaceful slumber, the kind only the victorious can have.


End file.
